Write.Feel.Live

The Nurse in Ward B

The nurse in ward B of the Children’s ward is very bad. She sweeps the floor as If with a vengeance at me And every other kid On the thirteen of the Fifteen beds in our ward.

The nurse in ward B Doesn’t talk to me, Anymore and I don’t know What went wrong exactly. Was it all the blood that Gurgled out of my mouth? But she said it was okay, She kept on saying that it Was all bad blood anyway!

The nurse in ward B Glares at me sometimes, But her eyes look at something Far beyond me. Her eyes, That once were full of Compassion for me, and all The other kids, in ward B.

The nurse in ward B, Doesn’t care to wash away My injuries, now. Doesn’t Give me a sponge bath every Morning, doesn’t sit beside Me and play with the hair Remaining on the unbroken Part of my skull, anymore.

The nurse in ward B Hates me, I guess. For I’ve heard her say A hundred times To others when she goes back To her nurse station That the kid on bed number 11 Should die soon. But I can’t gather the courage, To tell her, That I already have.